A Drawing Is Simply A Line Going

Make Chance Essential.

Every Artist Would Like To Live In The Central Organ Of Creation... Not All Are Destined To Get There... But Our Beating Hearts Drive Us Deep Down, Right Into The Pit Of Creation.

I Want To Be As Though New-born, Knowing Nothing, Absolutely Nothing About Europe.

A Certain Fire Pretends To Be Alive; It Awakens. Working Its Way Along The Hand As A Conductor, It Reaches The Support And Engulfs It; Then A Leaping Spark Closes The Circle It Was To Trace, Coming Back To The Eye And Beyond.

Everything Passes, And What Remains Of Former Times, What Remains Of Life, Is The Spiritual. In Everything We Do, The Claim Of The Absolute Is Unchanging.